


And If You Say You're Okay

by allylikethecat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Auston has the flu, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allylikethecat/pseuds/allylikethecat
Summary: "I threw up in the sink," Auston said, "twice."Mitch wrinkled his nose. "Gross." His mind wandered, he wondered why Auston couldn't puke in the toilet like a normal person. Easier to clean up.Auston glared. "Very."





	And If You Say You're Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This fic is unbetaed, and I apologize for any and all mistakes. (Let me know if there are any huge ones!)
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake.
> 
> Title from "The Cure" by Lady GaGa 
> 
> I don’t know what this is, or what happened but for some reason I wrote it so I decided to share. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Thank you! Enjoy! <3

"Why are you making that face? Why do you look like that?!" Mitch asked with concern as Auston stumbled into the kitchen. 

Mitch took another sip of his coffee, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He probably should have stopped after one or two cups. Three and a half was probably over doing it, but Auston wasn't up yet, and Mitch had nothing else to do. He had let himself in with his key. The TV was stuck on the Spanish channel and he couldn't find the remote to change it.

He let his gaze flicker from Auston's bare feet to his cactus covered pajama pants and Zurich Hard Rock Cafe sweatshirt. He raised an eyebrow. Except Mitch was too wired to raise just one, and both ended up nearing his hairline.

"I threw up in the sink," Auston said, "twice."

Mitch wrinkled his nose. "Gross." His mind wandered, he wondered why Auston couldn't puke in the toilet like a normal person. Easier to clean up.

Auston glared. "Very."

"We have to leave for the rink in like five," Mitch said, glancing at the clock on the microwave. "You coming or going back to bed?"

"I'm fine," Auston snapped looking everything but fine. Mitch squinted; he was looking pale and sweaty in an unhealthy way. Auston was usually so golden tan that it was a stark difference.

"If you say so," Mitch muttered, draining the last of the coffee he didn't need.

"I do," Auston, said, he grabbed his winter coat off from where he had left it hanging off the back of the kitchen chair. He pulled it on and disappeared into the living room where his Ugg slippers were under the coffee table.

Mitch blinked, following him hesitantly. Auston must be feeling like shit if he was wearing his slippers in public. Also it wasn't that cold out, there was no reason for him to be wearing a Canada Goose coat even with his thin desert blood.

"Are you coming?" Auston snapped and Mitch scurried after him, quickly deciding that he should probably keep his mouth shut. Auston was in a mood.

Mitch climbed into the drivers seat, he hadn't even taken the car out of park before Auston was hastily turning the radio off, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him. Mitch frowned, he always sang along to the radio on the way to practice. It was part of his routine. He reached forward to turn it back on but Auston slapped his hand away before he could make contact. Mitch winced, tucking his hand to his chest. That hurt.

"My head is killing me," Auston muttered, "I can't today."

Mitch frowned, opening his mouth to comment that Auston should have stayed home but instead thought better of it, snapping his mouth shut. The silence was killing him inside but he didn't think Auston could handle conversation right now. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up, his coat unzipped and his forehead pressed up against the cold window, his eyes closed. Mitch bit his lip. Auston looked pathetic and miserable.

His eyes snapped open. "Mitch you need to pull over."

"What?" Mitch asked confused as he switched lanes, making his way to the shoulder of the high way.

He hadn't even manages to stop the car before Auston was flinging the door open, half falling out of the car, half tanged in the seatbelt. He wrenched, throwing up into the frost covered grass. Mitch put the car in park and reached across the center console to awkwardly rub Auston's back. After a few minutes of dry heaving, which to Mitch felt like a few hours, (though he was sure it felt even longer to Auston) he sat back up, pulling the car door closed. Auston leaned back in his seat, breathing heavily with his eyes closed.

"Auston..." Mitch started before he was cut off.

"I'm fine now," he said, "Just drive."

Mitch bit his lip and handed Auston a water bottle he had found after some digging in the back seat. Thankfully, Auston didn't fight him, merely accepted the water bottle with his eyes half open.

Mitch pretended not to see the way his hands were shaking as he struggled to open it, too weak to break the seal on the cap. He loosened his grip on the water bottle, letting it fall from his fingers landing unopened in his lap. Mitch turned off of the highway an exit early, reaching across the center console at a red light to grab the water bottle from Auston's lap. He unscrewed the cap just as it turned green and handed it back. Auston didn't say anything, but his feverish eyes were heavy with gratitude.

Mitch pulled into the parking lot of the practice rink ten minutes later; he had been sneaking glances at Auston, who was slowly sipping from the water bottle, every chance he got. The center some how looked even worse than when they left the apartment.

More than anything, Mitch wished that Auston had stayed home. But part of him knew that he never would have. Auston played each game, attended each practice like he had something to prove, the weight of the franchise fallen to his shoulders as he struggled to hold it up despite the doubts and questions due to his nationality, his heritage, and his home town.

"Stop with the face," Mitch chirped, trying to lighten the mood. He knew Auston well enough that especially at his weakest he wouldn't react well to sympathy. "You're making me feel all guilty for driving you here, and I can't have a good practice if I feel guilty."

Auston made a huffing sound Mitch was pretty sure was supposed to be laughter, and opened his car door. This time he even managed to undo his seatbelt.

"I didn't know you ever had a good practice," Auston chirped weakly, his voice horse. He was leaning against the side of the car as he opened the door to get his bag out of the backseat. He was looking at it sadly, like he wasn't sure how he was going to carry it.

Mitch wanted to scream, to stomp his foot like a child and tell Auston he was going home. He could barely keep himself upright, there was no way he could make it through a practice, let alone would anyone let him even make it onto the ice. He doubted Auston would even make it to his stall before a trainer was pouncing on him to get checked out and sent home to get some rest.

Wordlessly Mitch grabbed his bag out of the back seat, and after a moments hesitation he slung Auston's over the other shoulder. Auston didn't say anything, but Mitch could feel his gaze burning into his back as he strolled towards the entrance to the rink. He didn't know if the flames in his eyes were from gratitude or frustration or a mix of both.

Mitch was correct in his assumption that Auston would barely make it into the locker room before being sent to the trainer’s office. They ran into Babs in the hallway and he took one look at Auston, wrinkle his nose and barked that he needed to go speak to Donna, their head trainer. Auston nodded, resignation coloring his features before wincing, the movement hurting his head.

"Yes sir," he crocked. Mitch cocked his head to the side. If possible it appeared Auston had grown even paler since stepping into the practice facility. Mitch wondered if he was going to be sick again. Mitch kept quiet though, Auston trailing behind him his footsteps heavy with lethargy as they made their way to the locker room. Mitch found his mind wondering, all the caffeine from the coffee had consumed starting to wear off, leading him towards a crash. He also wanted a muffin, something to soak up all the coffee. But also muffins were amazing.

They turned around a corner and Mitch frowned, realizing that Auston was no longer behind him. Mitch spun around just in time to see Auston frozen. He swayed slightly. Mitch dropped their bags to the floor and rushed forward, just in time to half catch Auston as he went down. Mitch swore, thankful he managed to keep Auston from cracking his head on the cement, but Auston wasn't a light dude.

"Help!" Mitch shouted, thankfully they were close enough to the locker room door, and it opened a moment later. Babs, must have warned the trainers that Auston was making his way to the office, and that he was in rough shape. Donna's eyes went wide when she saw Mitch on the ground attempting to hold Auston up. 

"What happened?" She asked, careful to keep his voice level so not to spook Mitch as he took control of the situation.

"Auston's been throwing up all morning and I think he has a fever and he just like passed out." Said Mitch eyes wide, and heart racing. He was honestly surprised and proud of himself that he hadn't started crying. Mitch had no shame in admitting that he was a crier. He didn’t even think this would have been an unusual situation to start balling in, anyone would cry if their best friend passed out on them in the middle of a hall way. Mitch blinked there were the tears.

Donna helped Mitch half carry, half drag Auston into her office; together they were able to get him onto the exam table. Mitch watched awkwardly, sniffling and hovering by the door as Donna hooked Auston up to an IV.

“Did he hit his head when he fell?” she asked and Mitch shook his head.

“No,” he said, he grabbed a tissue from Donna’s desk and blew his nose. Auston owed him so many cuddles when he was feeling better for putting him through this.

“You should probably get to practice,” Donna said, not looking up from where she was fiddling with a bag of saline. Mitch nodded, though she couldn’t see him, knowing he was being dismissed. If it was one of the other trainers, he would have argued, but Donna had always intimidated him. She was in her mid sixties, but still worked out, and wore men’s gray cargo shorts and a Maple Leafs polo shirt every day regardless of the weather. On one calf was a tattoo of the Maple Leaf’s logo. On the other, the Blue Jays. For some reason Mitch felt like he was personally letting her down whenever they lost. Donna had been with the organization before he was even born. 

Three hours later, Mitch was tired and on edge. Practice had been rough, Babs pushing them hard to make up for the fact that Auston would be missing at least the next two games. Plus, as Mitch was now realizing, as much as he loved hockey, it was even more fun to be playing and practicing with his best friend. Willy was great, but he didn’t have the same sense of humor, having spent too much of his life growing up in Scandinavia.

Richie, Donna’s right hand man, had pulled Mitch aside after practice and told him that they had taken Auston home. He was going to be fine, he had the flu that was going around and was too stubborn to ride it out and focus on getting better. Instead, he had tried to push himself to keep playing and it had only made things worse. Mitch had rolled his eyes, that way typical of the American. 

Mitch had been on his way home after practice but found he making a detour. He ran into Panera, grabbing the muffin he had been thinking about that morning, and some chicken soup to go. He parked in the visitors spot at Auston’s apartment complex, the one he had claimed as his own and smiled at Auston’s doorman as he let himself into the building.

He smiled, seeing that Auston was curled up in bed, sound asleep a trashcan by his head and a bottle of water on the nightstand. Rather than waking him up, Mitch put the soup in the refrigerator and stuck a sticky note on the water detailing where it was. He pressed a gentle kiss to Auston’s sweaty forehead and wondered back into the living room. This time he had come prepared, since the TV was still stuck on the Spanish channel. Pulling out his iPad he tied into Auston’s Wi-Fi and curled up the couch, content to watch a movie while Auston slept. That why he could he there when he stubborn best friend woke up and realized that he needed help.

Mitch smiled to himself, Auston could be dumb sometimes, but at the end of the day, he loved him.


End file.
